


The Luckiest

by dragonsHourglass



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breakups, F/F, F/M, Sadstuck, i dont really now how to tag im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsHourglass/pseuds/dragonsHourglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An apology, an awkward elevator ride, a song that keeps playing on the radio and someone's last chance."</p>
<p>Your name is Vriska Serket, and you were once the luckiest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luckiest

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first thing to ever post here, so i dont really know what im doing.
> 
> the song that is mentioned here is "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds. i used it on the recommendation of a friend.

You’re sitting at a really long table, lined with many, many chairs. Some chairs are toppled over, and some are neatly pushed in. All of them are empty, save for yours.

You sigh, the sound echoing loudly back at you. You feel very, very small and alone. You glance around, to make sure you’re actually by yourself.

A small giggle has your head swinging wildly to face in front of you, sending your long, dark hair all over your face.

_She_ sits there, her knees bent and the tip of one thumb resting gently on her bottom lip. Her eyelashes rest gently on her cheeks, and she looks at peace.

Then her eyes snap open, and instead of the gentle blue they normally are, they’re shockingly, solidly scarlet.

You sit up, breathing heavily. _It was a dream._

Your head turns to the radio on the small table beside your bed, figuring that’s what yanked you from your sleep. You don’t usually wake up from nightmares otherwise.

You can’t quite hear the song that is currently flowing from the device, slowly reaching out to turn it up a little.

As soon as you recognize the tune, you freeze for a moment before shutting the machine off, your heart racing much faster than it had been even right when you had woken up.

You had not needed to hear that song first thing in the morning, and definitely not after a dream about her.

You shake a little as you climb out of bed, the image of those shiny red eyes refusing to leave your mind.

You run your hand through the roots of your hair, wincing slightly when a finger gets caught on a knot and pulls. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s having the longest, thickest hair of any human being alive.

The only reason you kept it so long was because... _she_ had liked it.

A small twinge of pain attacks your chest as you look blankly at the side of the bed she wasn’t lying in.

As you force your mind to move on and grab a shirt, you’re distracted by the feel of a hand that wasn’t there ghosting down your side.

You shudder.

Her singsong voice playfully teasing you, whispering in your ear, laughing. Screaming and yelling at you.

You rush out of your room and into your kitchen, hoping to scrounge for food.

As you rifle through your cabinets, you sigh at the empty contents of them, tangling a hand in the hair thats draped over your shoulder. Maybe you could convince Kanaya to buy you some more food. You frown, knowing all you’d get is a lecture on how to move on and take care of yourself.

Without bothering to actually find something to fill your stomach, you shuffle yourself to the couch and sit down, pulling your knees to your chest and mimicking the pose she had in your dream. It’s a pose she held regularly back when she was with you, and imitating it gives you a slight feeling of comfort, you suppose. But you wish she and her cackle-laugh were there to make fun of you for acting so vulnerable.

The sudden sound of your ringtone makes you jump nearly out of your skin, one of your feet slipping off the couch and landing on the floor with a soft thud.

You reach for your cellphone nervously, and let out a breath of mixed relief and longing as you find it’s not her. But it’s the other her, Kanaya, an old friend of yours who had always acted in a motherly manner towards you.

“Hi,” you answer, your voice a lower volume than you had wanted.

“How long ago did you wake up?” Kanaya demands, “Or did I do it for you?”

“Jeez, I woke up a few minutes ago. Why?” You strive to make your voice louder this time.

“I’m just making sure you’re alive.” Her tone is short, as if she’d rather not be talking to you.

“I’m alive,” you say, letting another breath pass your lips as you do.

“Vriska, you’ve been shut in your own house for how long now?” Kanaya asks darkly.

“Since...” you trail off.

“Since Terezi left?” Kanaya finishes.

You find no voice to answer.

Kanaya audibly sighs before speaking again. “Meet me at the coffee shop down the street from my apartment, okay? Skaia? You need to get out of your own stuffy apartment.”

Knowing if you don’t agree, she’ll probably come over and drag you herself, you say a weak “Okay,” and she tells you be there before noon or else, and hangs up.

A few minutes after the call, you push yourself to your feet, your knees weak, and you head back to your room to put on more clothes than an old, dirty t-shirt and a pair of underwear. 

Around half an hour later finds you in a simple clothing choice of worn jeans and a different t-shirt in slightly better condition.

In front of a mirror, you attempt to tame the tangled-to-hell mess on your head, but halfway through, you give up and leave it like it is. You open the drawer containing your makeup to try to make yourself look a bit more presentable.

Once you get your skin to look a little less dead, you decide last minute to swipe your old signature cerulean lipstick over your mouth. 

You half-heartedly pose a couple times before walking out the door of your apartment for the first time in what feels like years. In reality, the last time you saw outside was approximately three months ago.

You make your way over to the elevator and press the arrow pointing downwards. It takes just a few seconds for the doors to slide open and--

Oh, no.

Standing in the elevator is an all-too-familiar man with sideswept blond bangs and large sunglasses. You forgot he lives in the same building as you.

Hesitating a moment too long from keeping the instance from being awkward, you nervously walk in and stand a few feet away from him.

“Hey, Serket.” he greets casually. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen that goddamn lipstick of yours.” 

“I don’t need to talk to you.” you say, turning your head to look at the wall of the elevator.

“How long has it been since you went anywhere?” he ignores your statement. “You look like a ghost.”

“And you still look like an asshole.” You say flatly, sending a glare in his direction.

“Ouch. Still bitter about TZ?” he asks.

All you give him is a short huff of breath.

“Man, you gotta get over her. You’re the past, it was just a little thing to her.”

“Is that what she told you?” You demand, spinning fully around to face him, your hair whipping behind you, following the movement. Rage boils in your chest and your mind.

He steps back a little, and you can’t help but feel a pang of pride at successfully intimidating him. “Uh...” is all that comes from his mouth.

“I don’t care if she actually said that or not.” you decide, “Because _nothing_ that comes out of your mouth is worth listening to, whether or not it’s relayed from Terezi.” 

As soon as the elevator doors slide open once more, you storm out, anger masking the intense feeling of anxiety you had felt upon seeing the hateful face of Dave Strider, the man who had been chosen over you.

You slide into the driver's seat of your small, blue car, the keys cold in the palm of your hand. After you've joined the rest of traffic, slowly getting used to the feeling of driving again, you flip on the radio.

The song playing is one with no words, and you find it comforting. As it comes to an end, the radio DJ starts talking, but you don't pay attention to him. All you catch is he's going to play a request next.

When the first few notes play, a wave of recognition washes over you. You grit your teeth, forcing your attention back on the road. You find your voice betraying you and singing along softly. 

Her voice wasn't as deep as yours, and she wasn't as skilled at singing as you are. But, oh, you _adored_ it when she sang. Especially this song, the one she had dedicated to you. 

The song comes to a close, and you realize a tear is threatening to fall from your right eye, and one already has from your left. You rub them both away and curse Kanaya for making you face the world.

You pull into Skaia Coffee's parking lot around two songs later, and you walk in to find Kanaya sitting peacefully by the window, sipping at her tea with a book in her hand. She marks her place and puts it down when she sees you. 

“Hello, Vriska.” she says simply, “Glad you could actually find it in you to make it.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, settling across from Kanaya and wrapping your hands around the coffee she had left for you.

“How are you doing?” Kanaya asks, concern replacing the usual undertone of sarcasm in her voice. “You look like death.”

“That’s the second time I’ve been told that today.” You look at your lap, wishing you had just decided to bail and stay home.

“Oh? Who told you first?”

“I ran into Strider in the elevator.”

“Younger or elder?”

You look up, giving Kanaya a flat expression. “Which do you think?”

“I take it you spoke to the younger, then.” You just nod.

“Well, I have something to tell you concerning him.”

“Then tell me, Kanaya.”

“First of all, you cannot get mad at me for not telling you sooner. Rose only informed me of this yesterday.” 

“I can’t decide whether to get mad or not if you don’t tell me.” You always hated how Kanaya liked to take her sweet time getting to her point.

Kanaya sighs, as if hesitant to say it. “He and Terezi are moving away together tomorrow.”

You promptly drop your coffee, not caring about the fact that it spills all over the table and your lap. “They’re _what?_ ” 

“They’re moving away tomo--”

“I heard you! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” You don’t care that you’re yelling and that the entire shop can hear you. You don’t care that you’re soaked with spilled coffee. Anger mixes in with confusion and hurt and you can’t make it all into one emotion. There’s just too much there and you can’t process anything other than the fact that she’s running away, and you’ll probably never see her again.

“I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer and I didn’t want to bother you further than just one call. I know how it irritates you when I call numerous times.”

“You could have _set fire to my house_ to get my attention and I wouldn’t have cared.” You say lowly through grit teeth.

“Vriska, you live in an apartment complex.” Kanaya informs you. You stand up.

“Is it really the time for details like that? I’m just... I’m going back home.” And you walk out the door, probably much to the relief of the other customers.

As you start to open the door of your car, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You whip around to see Kanaya, standing at her full height (still smaller than you), in her makeup that probably took around three hours to perfect and her homesewn clothes.

“Let me drive.” She says. “I don’t trust you on the road at the moment.”

You just slam the keys into her hand and storm around to the other side.

The drive is quiet and tense. Both of you refrain from speaking, both also knowing very well of your temper.

You don’t realize Kanaya drove in the wrong direction until she stops in front of a small house, big enough to house one or two people. 

You look at her questioningly. You don’t recognize where you are.

“This is where Terezi moved for a bit. Go talk to her, Vriska. It’s your last chance to.”

“I don't have to! She hates me.”

“Maybe so, but this visit isn’t for her.”

“Then who the fuck’s it for?”

“You. Now go.”

You groan dramatically, but you know you’re not going to win the argument. So you open the car door and walk up to the door as slowly as you possibly can.

Nervousness grips at your chest with such a force you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You’re breathing becomes a bit more uneven, and you look back at Kanaya in the driver’s seat of your car, pleading. She just makes a shooing motion with her hand, and you force your finger into prodding the doorbell before you decide to run away.

When you hear the door opening, your heart speeds up considerably and anxiety bubbles up into your throat and it feels like you might vomit.

Terezi’s small, curvy figure stands in the doorway, her head tilted up to look at your’s with glassy eyes that blur her vision so much she considers herself fully blind. A flash of recognition hits her face, and her expression contorts into one of disapproval.

“The fuck do you want?” she asks bluntly.

“I heard about you and Dave tomorrow.” You force the sentence out of your throat, but it’s hard, and it feels like you’re going to cry.

“Oh.” Is all Terezi says.

“And I don’t want you to leave. I... I never did.”

“How many times did you practice this in the mirror this morning?” 

“I didn’t even know I was coming over until about half an hour ago. I didn’t even know you lived here.”

“I don’t even care, Vriska. I don’t care who told you Dave and I are moving away from this hellhole and I don’t care who gave you my address. Just get the hell off my doorstep and don’t talk to me again.”

“I don’t think you fully realize what you did, Terezi...” you mumble.

“Oh, I broke your fragile little heart? Well, that’s all poetic and romantic and all, but I really don’t want to get back with a woman who treated me like a piece of fucking trash.”

Everything in your mind stops for a moment. She thinks you treated her horribly? You thought you had treated her the best you’d ever treated anyone. Sure, you were never the nicest person, and a lot of the time things got mixed up in your head and you didn’t think clearly, resulting in bad choices, but you had never hurt her. Intentionally.

Besides, she was the one who spontaneously decided to come home one night and tell you she had found someone else. Without telling you anything else.

“I’m so--” Is all that comes out of your mouth.

“I don’t want to hear it. It’s kind of too late to do anything. And it was too late three months ago. Good _bye_ , Serket.” And with that, the door closes with more force than was really necessary.

Slowly, you turn back towards the car, and you get in without saying a word to Kanaya.

She wordlessly leans over and swipes her thumb under your left eye, taking mascara-tinted tears from your face before starting the car back up and pulling away from Terezi’s house.

When you arrive back at your apartment building, Kanaya walks you to your door and kisses you gently on the cheek before telling you she’s sorry and leaving you alone.

The second you land on your bed, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You jolt awake when the light of morning is just starting to sneak in through your windows to loud knocking on your door.

Blearily, you drag yourself out of bed and to the door, rubbing your eyes (and realizing halfway through that you never took your makeup off). 

You open the door, but no one’s standing there. Sighing, you look at your feet, blurry from lack of glasses, preparing to close the door. A flash of red catches your eye before you do, though.

You kneel down to find the pointed pair of glasses with red lenses you had given Terezi for her birthday two years ago. You pick them up, along with the slip of paper they had just been lying on.

Written in painfully familiar handwriting is “I’M SORRY”.

You stand up with both the glasses and the paper in your hand and make your way back to your room.

Before you flop back onto your bed, you flip the radio on. You wonder how that song manages to be played every single time you decide to listen.

Tears don’t come this time, but as you lie back you think to yourself that no, you aren’t the luckiest.

And you never will be again.


End file.
